


Here For You

by SundanceKid2213



Category: La Reina del Sur (TV), Queen of the South (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 12:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15606450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SundanceKid2213/pseuds/SundanceKid2213
Summary: Filling in the blanks between Episodes 2.6 (El Camino de la Muerte) and Episode 2.7 (El Precio de la Fe).  At least what I wanted to happen. The trio is leaving La Paz and it's a long boat ride to the states.  Teresa is emotionally and physically exhausted, and James continues to be her rock.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It didn’t happen all at once. He wasn’t sure when it started or how it got this far, but here he was, in love with Teresa Mendoza. He had tried to keep her at arm’s length, he had tried to keep it business as usual, but it didn’t work. These feelings he tried to bury deep down as far as he possibly could, have boiled over causing him to second guess himself and Camila. That being said, James still didn’t know how the fuck he got here, running around a forest with Guero Fucking Davila.

“Guero!” It’s Teresa. Her voice is desperate and horse, “James!” The two men who love her run towards her pleading screams only to find Teresa covered in blood that’s not her own. They all exchange concerned looks, no words are needed. There’s nothing to say. She leads them back to the truck and James helps her in. She eyes his shoulder, and he shakes his head, “It’s fine.” She nods, and he jumps in beside her. Even in her state, she still concerned with his well-being. He doesn’t deserve her. They drive in silence; Teresa has unshed tears in her eyes. Guero tries for her hand, and her flinch makes him withdraw his gesture. 

King George meets them at the dock, “God damn baby girl, what the hell happened to you?”

“Now’s not the time Your Highness,” James spats, “Let’s load this shit up and get the hell out of here.” Teresa heads to the boat, saying nothing. No one stops her; even King George picks up on the social cues and leaves her alone. Guero starts to follow Teresa, she spins on her toes to face him, stopping Guero in his tracks, “No.”

“Teresa. . .I-”

“Don’t follow me. I need time.” There’s nothing he can say, he retreats backwards, finally turning towards the other boat. James starts up the ramp following Teresa, waiting to hear her dismissal as well, but it never comes. With a scathing look from Guero, everything is settled, King George and Guero on one boat, James and Teresa on the other, the rest of the crew splits. James takes his time on deck making sure there’s no action on shore to follow them. After a while he finds an empty room to drop his duffle bag. They’ve been at sea about an hour, and he feels that’s just enough time. Hopefully she’s showered and in bed by now.

He gives a tentative knock on the door, there’s no answer but James lets himself in anyway. He finds her sitting on the bed, perfectly still, in the same clothes with blood all over. 

His steps are gentle as he approaches. He looks down at her, pausing slightly before making his way to the restroom. Teresa hears the water running, and James comes back with a wash cloth. Ever so gently, he starts dabbing her face. He’s careful and tender; the white cloth becomes red as he washes the day off her face. Teresa stares, studying his face. A faint smile appears on her lips, and tears start falling down her face. “Thank you.” She whispers. His thumb brushes away her tears. “For what?”

“Being here.”

“Of course.” With hesitation he adds, “I want to say I’ll always be here, but in this line of business, I’m not sure I will.”  
“Me neither-”

“I think you’ll outlast me.” They exchange sad little smiles. “Why don’t you shower? I’m going to check things out up top. I’ll come back in a bit.” She nods. Teresa’s clothes are stiff with dried blood, and as she peels her shirt off the stench of the jungle hangs in the air. The shower is just one temperature, but it feels glorious. She takes extra care with her hair, working the shampoo through the dried clumps. Her thoughts are blank, and she loses time. How long has she been in here? “Teresa.” James’s voice knock’s her out of her trance. Here fingers are wrinkly. “Teresa!” His voice and his knock are a little more panicked.

“I’m fine. . . just a minute.” She finds James sitting on the bed, hunched over, hands clasped, elbows on his knees. As she reenters the room, his head turns. It looked like he had showered and changed too. “I’m in for the night.” Teresa says gesturing towards her outfit. His eyes went over here quickly, an oversized t-shirt and some sweats. He looked at the shirt again. His shirt. 

“I thought as much,” James offered, “I brought you a sandwich. Nice shirt.” She smiled, slightly.

“If you remember correctly, I only own what you have given me.”

“I don’t recall giving you my shirt.”

“Do you want it back?”

“No. It suits you.” His grin meets her own, “Eat the sandwich,” he says a little more seriously. 

“I’m not hungry,” she’s genuinely not, “You eat it.”

“I’ll eat half if you eat half. You have to eat. You had a rough day.”

“I’m aware of my day. Thank you.” Teresa says it a little more coolly than she intended, but as honorable as his intentions are, only she knows her own feelings. Neither of them, Guero nor James, they just don’t get it. 

She takes a bite of the sandwich. It’s like swallowing cardboard. She has no appetite; she might as well be swallowing rocks. It’s a chore but she finishes it somehow. His eyes never leave her face. There was no joy in the small meal, but she needed her strength. He knew it and so did she. Satisfied with the small victory of getting her to eat, James rises from the bed. “Well, I’ll let you rest-”

“No,” she stands too, “Don’t go just yet.” Teresa climbs into the middle of the bed. “Can you just sit here with me for a bit?” He nods and returns to his spot at the edge of the bed. She lays down and pulls the sheets to her chin, and stares up at the ceiling. They’re silent for a long while, which is fine with James. He’s content with just sitting there. . .as sad as that is, just being near is as good as it’s going to get for him. Her heart is somewhere else. He’s bound to Camila. What he would give for this to be a cruise. No Camila, no coke, definitely no Guero. Just the two them on the way to some resort, drinks on the beach. . . “James,” his thoughts are interrupted. He jerks his head out of his hands.

“Hmm,” he sleepily answers. He didn’t even notice his day dreams were turning into real dreams.

“Lay down. You’re tired.” He hesitates and shares a look with Teresa. This is a line. It’s about be crossed. 

He leans down to take off his shoes, then gets under the sheets. There’s definite space between them, until Teresa reaches for his hand. He takes it and interlocks their fingers. They both needed this today. Someone constant, someone who cares if they live or die, someone to just be there. They drift asleep; finally secure enough to find rest

The waves crash against the boat and the noise is just enough to jar James awake. How long have they been asleep? His eyes adjust to the room, his arm is stiff and numb. A mop of curly brown hair is sprawled across his chest. He tries to tame the mane, brushing it to the side with his fingers. Her figure adjusts, and Teresa’s chocolate eyes look up to meet his with a sleepy smile. She adjusts again and rests her head right in the crook of his arm. His fingers continue to stroke her hair; he takes a chance and places a sweet kiss on her forehead. She stiffens slightly before relaxing again, hugging his waist a little tighter before finding sleep again. 

Neither of them has had this in such a long time. An intimate touch that isn’t forced or filled with obligation. They drift in and out of sleep all day, and it’s the best rest they’ve both had in a very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

After what seems like an eternity, James gently untangles himself from their intertwined legs and arms and heads to the bathroom. He relieves himself, washes up, and dries his hands on the embellished towels, a big KG monogrammed in gold. He smiles a little, as much as the King annoys the shit out of him, he really came through for them today . . . well for her. Teresa seems to have that effect on people. Her warmth and her genuine nature brings out the best in anyone who takes the time to notice. Even if you didn’t think there was any good left, she finds it. They want to be on her side. Even that crazy ass El Santo found something in her to trust. His train of thought stops as his shoe hits a bag, and James notices his sweat pants peeking out her duffle. He peels off his jeans and changes into them. If they were going to lay around all day and night he might as well be comfortable. His stomach rumbles, he’s starving. She probably is too, he thought. He makes his way to the door.

“Where are you going?” A small sleepy voice asks from the bed. He walks towards her, kneeling by the mattress.

“I’m going to the kitchen, are you hungry yet?” James’s voice is almost a whisper. Her eyes flutter close again.

“No. I’m just so tired. Will you come back?” He’s surprised, but nods and brushes her wild curls from her face.

“I will if you want me to.” 

“I do,” she smiles as she turns over to her other side. 

James reluctantly leaves her, closing the door gently behind him. He makes his way to the top deck, and bums a cigarette from one of King George’s guys. It’s almost morning again, two men, guns slung over their shoulders, are laughing at one end of the boat. The sea is calm, and for once it looks like the next few days might be chaos free. He flicks his cigarette in the water, and makes his way to the kitchen. There’s not many options, a lot of it is processed garbage that doesn’t go bad. He opts for making a grilled cheese with a pickle on the side. As an impulse he grabs a packet of Pop-Tarts. He grabs a coke and makes his way back to her room.   
Before the door is completely open, Teresa is up, gun in hand pointed right at James. 

“Teresa, it’s me.” He places his plate on the dresser and puts his hands up to calm her, “It’s just me.” He says again in a soothing voice as he closes the door with his foot. She finally lowers the gun to her side, and James gently takes it and lays it on the bed. 

“You’re okay. You’re safe.” Teresa’s head straightens up, and her eyes are tense. Deja vu, just like El Santo’s dream. 

“You’re safe,” he says again and cups her face. She starts tearing up and launches her arms around his neck. He holds her tight as she’s shaking with sobs, “You’re safe,” he offers again.

“Stop saying that,” she cries.

“But you are. I’m here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” She pulls back again to look him in the eye.

“You’re going to die,” he looks surprised, but she continues, “I dreamt it.”

He smiles, “So you’re a psychic now?” Hurt appears on her face and he tries to recover, “I don’t believe in omens or superstition, all I believe is what I know. What I know right at this moment is that you’re safe, and as long as I’m alive, you’re going to stay safe.” He strokes her hair and continues to wipe her tears, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. YOU are not going to let anything happen to you. You’re the strongest, most resilient, most stubborn women I know. No man or woman is going to touch you.” 

She smiles at that, before burying her face in his neck. His neck is wet with tears; he continues to hold her until she is ready to let go. It doesn’t come so he sits on the bed and pulls her to his lap. Her shoulders relax and she’s asleep again. James adjusts again so his back is to the headboard. His heart hurts. She’s physically and emotionally exhausted. There’s nothing he can do to get her out of this life. She’s more than this and it doesn’t matter, they’re both completely and utterly stuck.

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever fanfic. Be gentle.


End file.
